


Downward Angular Momentum

by MerWhoLocked



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Friendly Rivalry, Love Confessions, M/M, Makkachin Lives, Medical Inaccuracies, No katsudon piroshkis, Not Really Character Death, Sorry Not Sorry, Until it gets deadly, Watch where your going Yuri, possibly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 09:35:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9173971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MerWhoLocked/pseuds/MerWhoLocked
Summary: Yuuri knows it’s an accident. He assumes that losing the Hot Springs on Ice tournament was the moment when Yuri Plisetsky had started taking him seriously. As much as the younger man pretends to hate him, he knows that the Russian skater valued true competition rather than winning by default. On top of that, Yuuri can’t imagine he’d risk his career for something so petty.Therefore, it was hard to believe that Yuri would have purposefully pushed him down the stairs.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was a idea I came up with after I jokingly told my sister that Yuri has a habit of running away from his fans without looking where he is going most of the time and then it evolved into a full fledged plot that involved lots of angst. I've come to realize that after three stories that I have a fascination with torturing poor Yuuri. 
> 
> This is set after the Rostelecom Cup in Russia but is AU from that point forward.

Yuuri knows it’s an accident. He liked to believe that he and Yuri Plisetsky had formed an odd friendship that was rooted in an intense rivalry starting long before the Hot Springs on Ice tournament. He vividly remembers the young arrogant skater that had berated him for crying in the bathroom last year in the bathroom at the Grand Prix Final. At the time, it was emotionally devastating and humiliating to be criticized by someone he barely knew after performing so poorly at the highest level of competition he’d ever been to.

But after more interaction with the younger man, Yuuri is now sure that it was Yuri’s insane way of baiting him to keep him motived for next season. Despite the Russian’s inability to remain civil, it seemed like they had come to an understanding after Victor had officially become Yuuri’s coach. Yuri would never admit it, even to himself but he’d looked up to Victor as a fellow skater and a pseudo older brother figure that he desperately wanted to prove his worth to. Victor’s sudden decision to leave Russia and coach a dime-a-dozen figure skater from Japan had been appalling to him.

Yuuri assumes that losing the Hot Springs on Ice tournament was the moment when Yuri had started taking him seriously. As much as the younger man pretends to hate him, he knows that the Russian skater valued true competition rather than winning by default. On top of that, Yuuri can’t imagine he’d risk his career for something so petty. Therefore, it was hard to believe that Yuri would have purposefully pushed him down the stairs.

Everything happened in what seemed like slow motion.

&&

Yuuri remembered feeling the crash of adrenalin after completing his solo free stake and his rather embarrassing attempt to hug every single person he’d come across. After the announcement of his fourth placement and advancement to the Grand Prix Finals by a hair’s breadth, Yuri had bowed and thanked Yakov for sitting with him as he’d received his scores. Yakov had merely grunted at him and then left to go find the other Yuri, who had also disappeared. After coming down off the second place podium, Yuri had ran off in the hopes of escaping his rabid fans.

Yuuri tried not to be too hard on himself, knowing that he couldn’t fully blame Victor’s absence on his inability to perform his best. He’d always struggled mentally when it came to competitions and he’d wanted Victor to leave to be there in case something happened to Makkachin.

 Nevertheless, he felt strangely bolstered by the taciturn coach’s last words to him at the kiss and cry. Yuuri quietly left the rink, avoiding getting caught up talking with any of the other skaters. He hadn’t heard anything from his mom or Victor about Makkachin’s condition and feared that the silence confirmed the worst. Vicchan’s death was hard on Yuuri and he never wanted Victor to go through that kind of pain.

Once he’d gotten back to his hotel, Yuuri took a quick shower, packed and decided it would be better to check-out a day early. He called the airline as he walked down the hall towards the elevator, re-booking his flight to come home tonight rather than wait till the morning like they usually did. He sighed, hand hovering over the button to call Victor’s phone. He didn’t want to bother him if they were getting important news from the vet but he also didn’t want Victor to be alone if Makkachin didn’t make it.

Although he’d grown close with the Katsuki family while he was staying in Japan to train Yuri, Victor had been strangely aloof with his personal life. As far as Yuuri was aware, Victor wasn’t even close with any of his own family in Russia. From what he could get out of him, Victor had had a falling out with his relatives when he’d moved from Moscow to St. Petersburg to pursue his skating career. Makkachin and those he’d trained with were the closest thing he had to family.

Yuuri wasn’t conceited enough to think that Victor considered him to be one of his family after only knowing each other a short time but Yuuri felt brave enough to say that they were at least friends. Everyone speculated on more after the kiss at the Cup of China but Yuri had been reluctant to dive any deeper into his complicated feelings towards his eccentric coach. He’d had much more pressing matters to focus on while training for the Rostelecom Cup.

Yuuri hid his face behind his hands when he felt his cheeks heat up, a common reaction he experienced when his thoughts lingering on Victor for too long. Thinking about Victor often led to thoughts about what it had felt like to be kissed by him. His lips had been cold at first, chilled by the temperature of the ice rink but had just started warming when Victor had pulled away to stare down at him with complete adoration in his eyes and a blush on his cheeks. He could still remember the way it felt to have Victor’s slim but muscular body lying on top of him both at the rink after his free skate and earlier that same day when Victor tried to make him take a nap.  All things considered, it had been a chaste kiss, over too quickly for Yuuri’s brain to catch up to the fact that he was kissing the man he’d idolized since before he could remember. The memory made him giddy just thinking about it, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. It wasn’t the first time Victor had implied a romantic allusion to their relationship but it was the first time he’d started to think it was more than just Victor’s way of teasing the Eros out of him. Suddenly, all those times in the hot spring when Victor had crowded his personal space took on a much deeper meaning.

The elevator dinged, announcing his arrival at the lobby floor and he stepped out into a large crowd. Most of the skaters were just now coming back from the rink and had congregated in the lobby. The reception area was large enough so that voices echoed across the vaulted ceilings and Yuuri hoped he could escape the pandemonium without any unnecessary delays. As he stepped into the crowd, he could see all but one of his fellow skaters grouped together in the middle of the room.

Michele had his arm wrapped around Sara, who was pouting sulkily at Seung-Gil and trying to pull away from her protective brother. The Korean skater had a look of utter disdain on his face, appearing like he would rather anywhere else but there at the moment. Emil stood on the other side of Michele with his hand on the back of his head, grinning awkwardly as the Italian skater gestured heatedly. JJ was standing a little ways away from the group, smirking arrogantly at them as if they were all there for his own personal amusement. He had his arms around a beautiful dark haired women that Yuuri assumed was his longtime girlfriend he’d been bragging about proposing too.

Yuuri held his breath as he walked past them, head ducked down. He knew they most likely wouldn’t notice him anyway with his unfortunate habit of blending in with the crowd, even though he’d been trying to work on his confidence for his Eros performance but it was still better safe than sorry. He didn’t want to be held up when he had a plane to catch soon. Like he expected, no one glanced his way and he breathed a sigh of relief when he was far enough away, pulling out his bill to settle at checkout.

The front desk was located across the room, near large carpeted stairs that lead down to a huge banquet hall. He hadn’t paid much attention to the layout of the hotel, knowing that he’d only be in Russia a few days but the stairs were large enough that he’d taken notice.

Just as he was passing, there was a squawk of indignation and a flash of blonde hair coming his way. It happened so fast that Yuuri had no chance to dodge.

Yuri didn’t even see him as kept his head turned back towards the mob of adoring fans chasing him through the lobby. One lucky fan got a fistful of his jacket and Yuri jerked in attempt to pull away from her, clipping Yuuri in the shoulder in the process. The initial collision wasn’t painful but it had enough force to push the Japanese skater towards the stairs. One of his feet caught the lip of the carpet, causing him to spin midair and fall backwards.

There was a moment of complete and utter disbelief, where time seemed to stand still as Yurri’s surprised eyes connected with Yuri’s wide, guilty ones right before he felt his back hit the first step. Instinct from years of falling on the ice kicked in as soon as the momentum kept him tumbling down and he rolled to the side, tucking his arms and head into his body. As he rolled to a stop at the landing, Yuuri stared at the yellow colored paint on the wall without really seeing it. Because of this, it took him a moment to realize that someone rushed to his side. The man helped carefully roll him over onto his back while trying not to jostle him too much.

“Itai!” Yuuri whined when he was finally able to string two thoughts together. He laid there pathetically and imagined the faces of his fellow skaters, looking down at him with indulgent pity.

Tears prickled his eyes as he tried not to panic. There was no way that his journey could end here. He’d come so far, fought so hard and to be knocked out of competition for something like this felt like a bigger failure than making it to the Grand Prix and coming in last. With foolish determination, he stretched his arms out slowly as he felt for any sudden pain. His heartbeat was finally slowing down to a normal level and the immediate shock was wearing off.

His arms were fine, if a bit bruised and his neck felt normal. He could still move his legs which ruled out paralysis. He went through a catalog of body parts before finally moving to his feet. His left ankle was stiff and he cried out when there was a sharp stab of pain as he tried to flex the joint.

Tears of frustration and anxiety formed in his eyes and he tried to hide his face away from so many foreign strangers crowding him. By this time, more of the staff had converged around him to keep the press from coming down the stairs to try and get an interview. The noise of the crowded room seemed to only get louder as he became a spectacle for the main event. Yuuri tried to ignore the sound of camera shutters and flashing lights as the press documented his fall and he groaned, less in pain and more in irritation. He could already see the headlines tomorrow morning.

_Up and Coming Yuuri Katsuki’s Tragic Fall that Kept Him from the Grand Prix Finals._

_Yuri Plisetsky Ruthlessly Pushes a Competing Skater into an Early Retirement._

It was mortifying either way.

 “Sir. You must not move. You could be badly hurt,” A masculine voice in heavily accented English told him and Yuuri recognized him as one of the hotel staff who had helped carry his bags to his room when they arrived. The man turned to a women on his right and spoke to her in fluent Russian, which he poorly attempted to follow.

Yuuri had challenged himself to learn Russian when Victor had become his coach, something he hadn’t deigned to tell the man because he didn’t want a lecture about unnecessary stress in his life during competition season. They both could speak excellent English and never had any problem understanding one another. Despite this, it was something Yuuri really wanted to do. In the many months since he’d started learning, his Russian was still barely passable. He understood the word for medic and hospital and filled in the blanks from there.

“Net… Net boli,” Yuuri tried to say, indicating it wasn’t necessary but was silenced by a familiar voice. He didn’t want to go to an unfamiliar hospital when he could barely speak the language, worried about being an unnecessary burden. 

“You idiot, let them take care of you.” Yuuri hadn’t noticed that the other Yuri had squeezed in between the crowd and was kneeling by his side. Though the Russian skater wasn’t known for his kind and gentle nature, Yuuri was still startled when the younger man yelled at him angrily for his nonadherence to medical treatment. 

“I’m fine, honestly. It’s just my ankle.” Yuuri tried to protest, switching back to English. Yuri scowled at him and clenched his fists, looking like he was one wrong word away from hitting Yuuri upside the head in lieu of kicking him.  

“And what if you’re seriously hurt, huh? You can’t skate on a broken ankle. You’re just going to ignore it and blow your chances at the Grand Prix?” Yuri replied curtly, “Then I’ll have to be stuck only beating that annoying JJ.”  

Yuuri felt flattered that he was considered to be as skilled enough in Yuri’s eyes to rival JJ, who so far had skated two flawless performances. He felt himself blush and ducked his head, missing the identical look of embarrassment on Yuri’s young face when he also realized what he’d said. 

“Baka,” Yuri grumbled in accented Japanese, turning away from the scrutiny of the older man’s stare awkwardly. 

“Okay, I’ll behave,” Yurri grinned and did his best to relax, letting the medics come in and do their job. Most of the staff had backed away to work on crowd control and Yuri was grateful to be shielded from prying eyes. The medic was an older man in his late 30’s with a kind face and compassionate eyes. He didn’t speak any English and Yuri had to translate for him. 

“He wants to know if you are in any pain.” Yuri grumbled, trying not to appear worried. He had pulled on his usual grumpy bearing like it was a buffer protecting him from the world, something Yuuri didn’t fully understand the necessity of but figured that the younger skater must have a good reason for. 

“Just my ankle.” He replied hesitantly.  

The medic frowned and spoke too quickly for Yuuri to pick up any of the language. 

“None in your neck or shoulders?” Yuri translated, “And don’t you dare lie,” he said on his own.  

“No, not really,” Yuuri replied and then tentatively added, “Maybe my shoulders are a little bruised but I ducked during the fall and protected my head instinctively. It doesn’t hurt nearly as bad as my ankle does and that’s really only when I move it.” 

The medic looked relieved to hear it. He reached down and gently lifted Yuuri’s leg, having another medic hold underneath his knee so that it would stay still as he inspected his ankle. With great care, the medic slowly untied Yuuri’s shoes to get a better look at the damage. Yuuri grimaced when his sneaker came off, letting out an unintentional high whine and Yuri winced, looking away in guilt. 

“He says you are lucky. Not many walk away unscathed from a fall like that. He is going to prod it a bit to see what the damage is,” Yuri translated when the medic was done speaking. 

“Konechno,” Yuuri gave his consent, trying to keep his body relaxed in preparation. The less tense he was, the less damage he could potentially do. When the medic touched his ankle for the first time, there was a sharp stabbing pain and he looked down in dismay to see his foot was heavily swollen, dark bruises just starting to form along the side of his foot and between his toes. Moving his toes was much more of an effort than it was ten minutes ago, he discovered. 

“Stop moving!” Yuri yelled at him and startled Yuuri into immediately tensing up, making his ankle spasm in white-hot pain. The medic said something to the younger man while a sort of white noise filled Yuuri’s ears, making it hard to understand anything. Yuri turned bright red in shame and nodded his head, embarrassed by his chastisement.  

The medic resumed his work, lifting his leg higher to gently stimulate the swollen flesh on the backside of his ankle. Nothing too horrendous but against his better judgement, Yuuri braced himself as the medic very gently flexed the joint to check his radial movement. Yuuri gasped, his breath coming out in shallow pants as he clenched his eyes shut. Nausea roiled in his belly and the next thing he knew, he was laying on his side, choking down bile. In all his years of skating, he’d never gotten seriously injured and this was the first time he was dealing with such an enormous amount of pain.  

This was bad. It had to be if he was in this much pain. Was it broken? Yuri was right, he couldn’t skate on a broken leg. He would be disqualified. 

The medic was frowning again at his reaction and Yuri was as pale as a ghost, shaking ever so slightly. The Russian skater looked so young, projecting an innocence that gave Yuuri an irrational urge to give him comfort despite the fact that he was the one who had been pushed down the stairs. Another jolt of pain distracted him from his surroundings and he could feel his anxiety start to build as he wondered if this was really it. Was his career really over just as he was getting back on track again? 

The medic glanced at Yuri and then said something in Russian to a person standing behind them. In all the excitement, Yuuri hadn’t noticed Yakov had appeared and was silently watching them with a calculating expression on his face, his arms folded. 

“Yuri, go stand with Mila. I will take over from here.” Yakov ordered briskly and Yuuri could see the boy wanted to argue with his coach. But Yakov wasn’t taking no for an answer, putting Yuri’s well-being over his innate stubbornness to not appear weak in front of everyone else.  

“I’m okay, really. I’m sure it looks a lot worse than it is,” Yuuri chimed in, forcing himself to smile though he was sure it came off as more of a grimace. 

“Prosti,” Yuri muttered, his apology so quiet that Yurri wasn’t entirely sure he was supposed to be able to hear it. Yuri stood and walked over to a brown haired women, head ducked down so that his long blonde hair covered his eyes. Mila pulled him close and Yuri silently accepted her touch, signifying just had badly this had shaken him.   

“How bad is it?” Yuuri asked, looking up to Yakov for guidance and desperately wished despite everything that Victor was here. He teared up at the thought and had to bit his lip to keep a sob from escaping. 

“He does not think it is broken, only badly sprained. It will take couple of weeks to heal.” Yakov translated for him, “He thinks you should come to hospital just to make sure you didn’t tear any tendons.” 

Yuuri felt the tears that had been building up finally escape and run down his cheeks, “I can’t be out that long. I have to train for the Grand Prix.”  

Yakov sighed uncomfortably at the sight of his tears and adjusted his bowlers cap. Yuuri suddenly understood why Victor had been so bad at comforting him when he’d cried before his free stake in China, having learned coping methods from his own coach. “You have many weeks before the Grand Prix. If Victor keeps you on an aggressive training schedule after you’ve completely healed, you should get enough practice in. Tell Victor that he can call if he needs advice. This one time only!” The older coach is sure to make this clear but Yuuri realizes that its Yakov’s way of telling him he wasn’t as crotchety as he pretended to be.  

Yuuri swallowed his tears and nodded, looking heart-breakingly younger than his twenty-three years. 

“He is going to wrap your ankle now. You need to keep off it and apply ice for the next few hours. Then heat.” Yakov instructed which made Yuuri remember what he was doing before his impromptu fall. 

“I’d like to go back to Japan. My flight leaves at nine and I was just about to checkout of the hotel. There was an emergency back home and it was why Victor had to leave early,” Yuuri felt dumb requesting it considering his injury but a sudden homesickness for his family gripped him so suddenly that he felt like he couldn’t stand being in Russia any longer than he had to be.  

Yakov spoke to the medic for a moment and Yurri didn’t even attempt to pretend to keep up, fiddling with the zipper to his jacket. He looked around, wondering what had happened to his bag. He must have dropped it instinctively when he’d started to fall. He wondered if Victor had tried to call him about Makkachin and felt irrationally guilty for not thinking of him during all this.  

“The medic says it should be fine as long as you are in wheelchair entire way and when you land in Japan. You can ice it on the plane. He also requests that you make a follow up appointment with your doctor when you get home.” Yakov reluctantly gives his blessing. He steps away to coordinate with the hotel staff as the medic opens his bag and gets out the proper equipment to wrap his ankle. 

As his ankle is being tended to, he finally see’s where his bag has landed. His phone was only a few feet away from him and he tried to reach for it without jostling his leg. Another medic hands him it when it proves to be impossible and he thanks him sheepishly. He checks his messages and is relieved to see Victor had tried to call him and left him a text message.

Makkachin was okay. They were able to stabilize him. He smiled feebly and cried both tears of happiness at the good news and sadness for his own misfortune. He was startled when his phone buzzed in his hands and Victors name appeared on the ID.

He froze, staring at his phone in abrupt terror. It just now occurred to him that this injury didn’t just affect him. Yuuri hadn’t been the only one who’d worked hard to get him here. How was he supposed to tell him that he might not be able to compete in the competition they’d been training months for? What would that mean for Victor? More than likely, he’d return to Russia if Yuuri was disqualified. 

Suddenly, talking to Victor didn’t seem like the best idea.  

He gulped and accepted the call anyway, knowing that Victor deserved his honesty after everything they’d been through together. 

“H-hey Victor,” Yuuri said before Victor could interrupt, “I’m glad Makkachin’s going to be okay.” 

“Yuurrrrrrrri!” Victor whined, ignoring him altogether, “Chris told me what happened! Are you alright?” He sounded worried on the phone and it didn’t help when he made a small moan of pain when the medic set his ankle back down after finishing wrapping it. Victor didn’t verbally say anything but there was the sound of rapid movement on the other side of the phone. It sounded like Victor was hurrying to do something. 

“Chris?” Yuuri repeated in confusion. How did the Swiss skater know of his injury? He wasn’t even at this competition, having already scored high enough to advance to the Grand Prix. 

“JJ posted it on his Instagram along with a picture of you laying at the bottom of the stairs.” Victor said worriedly, “Your family is concerned about you. Your mom says she hasn’t been able to get a hold of you and Phichit has tried to call and see how you’re doing.” 

News traveled fast on social media and Yuuri directed all his annoyance towards a certain Canadian skater. 

“I dropped my phone.” Yuuri’s explanation was pitiful but he was distracted by the sound of Victor moving stuff around in the background, “What are you doing?” 

“Re-packing my bag,” Victor explained, slightly out of breath, “I’m going to book the next flight out and I will be there as soon as I can to kiss everything better.”

 “N-no!” Yuuri stammered, heart pounding at the mention of kisses, “Victor, that’s dumb! I’m coming home tonight. I got the last non-stop flight out and will be there by tomorrow morning,”  

Victor stopped moving abruptly and Yuuri listened to his harsh breathing over the phone. “I will be at the airport to pick you up. Text me what time your flight lands.” He finally replied. His voice sounded strangled, as if he was trying hard not to reveal what he was truly feeling and stay positive. 

“O-of course.” Yuuri replied softly. Of course Victor was mad. Now that the shock had worn off, reality was starting to set in and Victor must be finally comprehending the implications of the situation. 

“I will talk to you later. Have a safe flight, krasivaya.” Victor said and Yuuri blinked. The word sounded familiar but he couldn’t remember the exact translation for it. Victor hung up before Yuuri could ask him about it so he tried to put it out of his mind, focusing back on the medic who was patiently waiting for him to get off the phone. The man gestured to one of the hotel staff that had come up behind him with a bucket ice and filled a cloth white ice bag with it. Wordlessly, he tied the bag around his ankle using the straps and then ceremoniously lifted Yuuri into his arms to carry up the stairs. Now that Yakov had wandered off, their communication had dwindled into silence from the language barrier. 

That left him alone to stew in his restless thoughts, wondering how Victor was going break the news to him that this was all over. 

&& 

Nine hours later, his plane landed at Tokyo International and he couldn’t believe how tired and sore he was. His body had finally caught on that he was supposed to be in pain and was doing its best to remind him of that fact. His shoulders and hips had borne the brunt of the fall and he had some spectacular bruises to show for his battle with Russian stairs. His ankle hurt the worst but that was a given considering his left foot was now twice the size of his right one. 

He had swallowed a couple tablets of aspirin that the medic had suggested for the pain but he was due for another dose, the first one wearing off. A gate attendant pushed him to the gate of his connecting flight to Fukuoka Airport, using an airport wheelchair to transport him. After another three hour flight and an hour drive, he would finally be home and he couldn’t wait take a long soak in the onsen. He had to remind himself to be grateful to have grown up at a hot spring. After every fall he’d sustained, he could soothe away the pain with very little trouble. As a professional athlete, he was incredibly spoiled.

By the time he arrived in Kyushu, he was about ready to drop in exhaustion. It was only his anxiety of seeing Victor face to face that kept him from falling asleep as another attendant wheeled him out of the terminal. He was barely paying attention to his surroundings, so Makkachin barking startled him out of his stupor. He looked up to see the large brown poodle run towards him and stand so he was planting his two front paws up on the glass separating them in the hallway exiting from customs and immigration. The dog panted in excitement, tongue wagging at seeing his second favorite human.

Seeing Makkachin meant that Victor was here as well. He found the silver haired man nearby, seated on an orange bench just behind Makkachin in a large waiting area. He quickly stood up when he saw what Makkachin was barking at and ran towards the exit that Yuuri was headed towards, waiting anxiously as the attendant wheeled him out. Seeing Victor’s harried appearance made Yuuri realize that he had spent the last twelve hours tormenting himself for nothing. If Victor wad mad, he was doing a great job of hiding it behind his apparent worry. 

When the attendant had wheeled him through the sliding door, Yuuri threw himself out of the chair and into Victor’s arms. The attendant gasped in fear that he was going to fall and hurt himself but covered her mouth when she saw the heartwarming display before her. Victor had fallen to his knees and caught him before he could hit the ground, holding him close. 

“I’m so sorry, Victor! I ruined everything,” Yuuri said pressing his face into Victor’s shoulder and closing his eyes against the tears that wanted to escape. He sniffled miserably and wrapped his arms around his coach, holding onto him tightly.  

“Why are you sorry?” Victor asked, whispering close to his ear, “I saw your free skate and you did wonderful despite having to skate without me there. Your mother told me about how your dog died last year right before the Grand Prix finals it was what caused you to skate so poorly. She was worried you were going to choke up again,” 

“But I fell...” Yurri mumbled, shamefaced, “With my foot injured, I might have to drop out,”  

“What are you talking about? I have a reliable source that says you were pushed,” Out of everything Yuuri could have said, this was what caused Victor to look baffled. He pulled away from Yuuri so that he could look the younger man in the eyes.  

Before Yuuri could reply, Victor helped him back into his wheelchair and then rolled him over to the bench he’d previously been sitting on, helping him prop his injured let up. He positioned himself so that he was still sitting close enough to hug Yuuri and continued to hold him close. 

“It was an accident. Yuri wasn’t paying attention to where he was going,” Yuuri replied with a sigh, “The medic said that my food is not broken but I have to stop training for a few weeks. And since I need all the practice I can get if I’m going to land the quadruple flip at the Grand Prix, I won’t be ready for it.” Yuuri replied dejectedly. He was only trying to be practical. He had been attempting to land the quad flip in practice since the Cup of China but hadn’t been consistent enough to dare attempt it at the Rostelecom Cup. Instead they had both decided to save it to peak at the Grand Prix. Now would be lucky if he could land his quadruple salcow after an injury like this. 

“If you’re worried about it, we can take the quadruple flip out of the program but Yakov has already called and told me what the paramedic said. We are going to get a second opinion from your doctor of course but I’ve already started setting up a new training schedule to get you back on track once you’re fully healed,” Victor explained, “That is… unless you want to drop out?” 

“No! Of course not!” Yuuri yelled fervently, “I want to win gold with you by my side!”  

Victor smiled indulgently at him, “Let’s do it then,” he said. Yuuri’s passion for the sport had been what had captivated him from the start and seeing him so worked up about winning gave Victor the motivation he needed to be an inspiring coach.  

They embraced once more and Victor felt the familiar longing that had been building for the last few months. Flirting was second nature to him and he’d thought using this tactic with Yuuri would bring out the erotic man Victor remembered from the banquet. He was hiding somewhere inside this shy demeanor and all Victor had to do was seduce it out of him. He hadn’t intended for it to go any farther than that but spending so much time with a man who was so open and honest about himself had changed something within him and he found himself falling hard for Yuuri despite his best intentions to be a model coach. 

Victor had a naturally charismatic personality and with his extremely busy schedule in the past, this had made it hard for him to seriously date anyone, leading many people to assume he was flighty when it came to relationships when in fact it was the exact opposite. He craved companionship just as much as he wanted sex. 

“Hey, Victor,” Yuuri was holding onto him so tightly that Victor had to pull away to hear him properly, “Will you be my coach till I retire?” 

Victor appeared too shocked for words at first, stunned by Yuuri’s bold request but his shock melted away into a look of pure admiration. He hoped this man would never stop surprising him. 

“That sounds like a marriage proposal,” He said and then leaned forward and placed hand on the side of Yuuri’s face, drawing him into a kiss. The abrupt action caused the younger man to freeze up in surprise but Victor waited patiently for Yuuri to get over whatever doubts he was thinking up. He was rewarded when Yuuri relaxed and tentatively kissed him back. They separated when they starting hearing whispers all around them and Yuuri hid his face in Victor’s shoulder, feeling mortified when he remembered where they were still sitting. 

“We should get back. You’ll feel a lot better after a soak in the hot spring,” Victor laughed and rubbed his back comfortingly. 

“Yea,” Yuuri said blushing adorably, “Let’s go home.” 

“Home,” Victor repeated, surprised to realize that he meant it. Hasetsu was quickly becoming more of a home than St. Petersburg or Moscow ever was and Victor knew it had everything to do with the man in his arms. 

Yuuri slept the entire drive home, laying across the back seat to keep his foot elevated. Makkachin lay on the floor in front of him with his head on Yuuri’s stomach, snoozing along with him. Victor would often take the chance to sneak a peek in the rear-view mirror, watching both of them with a smile on his face.  

He was just starting to realize how was good it felt to have family to come home to.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for sticking around till the end. Please leave a comment if you enjoyed it! All the medical analogies I made were done by someone who has no medical degree but happens to have a nurse for a mother so if anything is incorrect, I blame her.
> 
> All translations were done through Google Translate so they might be a little rough. I don't personally know anyone who speaks fluent Russian so I used the tools I have. This is also phonetic Russian and not the Cyrillic script.
> 
> Russian Translations:   
> "Net… Net boli"- No… No pain  
> "Konechno"- Of Course/Sure  
> "Prosti"- Sorry  
> "Krasivaya"- Beautiful


End file.
